


Unconsented

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [365]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen, implied/threatened assault, spiked drinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:53:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8662918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: preludeinz requested: Oxford John and Penny, spiked drink at a party they probably shouldn't be at, because I've got that terrible streak of cruelty.





	

It took John ten seconds to put the pieces together and ten minutes to find Penny.  They were the longest ten minutes of his life to date.

He knew they shouldn’t have come.

But it was Penny’s turn to choose, and she knew how to press all his buttons.  “Try new things, darling,” she had purred.  

They’d gotten separated soon after arriving, the flow of people in the overfull house pulling them apart.  John had been in the kitchen, chatting with a couple from his Tuesday morning lab when the first girl had staggered in to vomit in the sink.

Pushing through the crowd, he heard the whispers, put together the shape of what wasn’t being said.  He was almost running by the time he hit the top of the stairs.

Penny was cornered, visibly swaying on her feet, obviously fighting the effects of whatever had been in the glass that had tumbled out of lax fingers to roll on the carpet by her feet.

John took in the scene in the beat between footsteps before he narrowed in on the critical detail.

Penny was cornered.

John’s boots were silent on the thick carpet, and he could hear every slimy word, the rustle of Penny’s dress as she tried to shove him away, her rapidly accelerating breathing. Her assailant was taller than her, bulkier than John,  one hand splayed on the wallpaper above her head clearly showing one of the rings that the championship teams wore like a badge.

“Hey,” John said brightly.  When the bastard turned, John’s fist caught him high on the cheek.

Blood splashed on the wallpaper as John’s fist punched through cartilage, breaking the man’s nose.  “Jesus fuck, dude,” the man spluttered, spraying droplets of blood on the carpet as he clutched at his face.  “What the fuck was that for?”

John massaged his clenched fist.  “Oh, that was just to distract you from her.”

The other man turned, opening his stance just as Penny’s dainty stiletto heel kicked up and drove right in on the seam of his jeans.

He folded like a house of cards and began retching on the floor.

“John?” Penny asked, sounding young and tired and a little afraid.  “Please take me home.”

John was already shrugging off his coat, draping it lightly over her shoulders.  Arm protectively curled around her, John found a path out into the crisp, clear evening air.


End file.
